


Magic Makes It

by williamastankova



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (Reluctantly), A whole lot of em, Arthur likes it, Bottom Arthur, Bottom Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Boys Kissing, Caretaking, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Use Of Magic, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Merlin Becomes Buff, Merlin Falls Into Nettles, Merlin is a Little Shit, Muscles, Overnight, Pining Arthur, Rough Kissing, Surprise Kissing, Top Merlin (Merlin), arthur takes care of him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 10:10:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20044261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamastankova/pseuds/williamastankova
Summary: Merlin's looking a little too delectable recently, and Arthur's finding it harder and harder to resist.(inspired majorly by a gif I found that looks like buff!Merlin kissing Arthur, I'll attach it so you can see it too)





	Magic Makes It

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the gif found at https://giphy.com/gifs/gay-guys-LvhZ6DjmtttFS
> 
> ...don't ask any questions.

Merlin's supposed to be the unattractive one, at least in comparison to Arthur. He's meant to be the manservant who's too tall, too skinny, too gangly to be conventionally attractive. He should have the stupid ears and stupid big mouth and stupid sparkling blue eyes, which are redeeming but not enough so that Arthur would lose any chances with women to him. He's supposed to be cute, slender-framed, innocent, but something's changed.

Arthur doesn't even know how it happens. It seems like one day he bids Merlin a good night, and the next morning he's morphed into a completely different human. He thinks this because when the silhouette approaches him, ready to wake him and prepare him for another day, he's actually a little frightened by the strong outline he sees.

"Woah!" He calls out, jumping up suddenly, feeling wide awake and ready to defend himself if needs be, "Take a step back, don't come any closer!"

"Arthur, what's happened? Are you alright?" Merlin speaks, identifying himself inadvertantly as the broad shadow that had been approaching Arthur just seconds prior, who had now parked himself where he stood. "Bad night, sire?"

"Merlin?" Arthur sounds completely shocked as he says the man's name, and for good reason, too.

As his curtains blow, letting more light into the room, more of Merlin is revealed. Arthur looks intently at him, studies his new form, strong and sturdy. Heaven forbid, it actually looks like Merlin has _muscles_. Since when has he had any of those? Arthur didn't think he ate enough to put on weight, let alone to be able to work his newfound weight into hard muscle.

"Something wrong?" Merlin gives him that look, the one with his quirked eyebrow that asks Arthur if he's feeling quite alright, if he needs Merlin to call for serious medical help.

"I... no, nothing's wrong, Merlin, I just-" Arthur squints at the man, looking over at him in utter disbelief, "Have you been working out?"

Merlin laughs somewhat nervously, "Excuse me, sire?"

"I only ask because you-" Arthur _really_ doesn't want to have to explain himself right now, especially not with the way his body is deciding it rather likes the new look on Merlin, the one with more weight and mass, and is reacting accordingly. "Never mind. Just, get my clothes ready, will you?"

That ought to do it. If he continues to order Merlin around as he's so used to doing, if he gets dressed and takes the day in his stride, pretending nothing at all is out of the ordinary, it'll go away. It's a shock to the system for the moment, he decides, which is why his body is behaving in such an unregal manner. He watches as Merlin nods and heads to his wardrobe, and he makes to stand as he does so.

Only, in approximately five seconds, he wishes he hadn't done so, because his eyes fall idly down to rest on Merlin's rear, as has happened in the past, only to find the pert bottom replaced by something entirely unexpected. There, he sees Merlin hasn't only put on weight in his face and arms, but his arse, too. Now, it seems to have doubled - perhaps tripled - in size, and looks full as he fiddles with Arthur's clothes.

Predictably, his body now decides it's perfectly alright to give him the beginnings of an erection, or perhaps to initialise the second stage of one, granted how he had reacted simply by looking at Merlin's plumper face. The man's features have filled out, Arthur notices, though he tries to avert his gaze to avoid any further awkward situations. Only, he seems to have forgotten one minute detail.

"Arms up," Merlin orders him as he walks back, as though he were the prince and Arthur his servant. It's only by chance that Arthur seems to obey him, and not at all as a direct result of the newly dominant persona the man seems to have taken on with his weight.

Ah, right, well. Arthur forgot about this part of the morning, somehow, because now Merlin's dropping the clothes for the day onto the bed and is taking to loosening Arthur's shirt and then, without warning, is haphazardly tugging it over his head. The prince splutters dramatically, certainly not because he hadn't been expecting to be suddenly nude before such an unexpectedly attractive man this morning, and complains.

"Merlin!" He whines, letting the man know he doesn't exactly want a face full of cotton as his wake-up call.

"Sorry," Merlin mumbles, though doesn't sound sorry. Does he ever? He soon takes to forcing Arthur's head through a too-tight hole of a shirt, and the prince doesn't think it'd do much good to complain.

It's only when Merlin drops to his knees before him that Arthur thinks he's being a terrible tease. He looks up at Arthur through thick, dark lashes, looking rather feminine in his new masculine form, and when his hands fly to remove Arthur's pants, it seems he notices exactly what the prince had been hoping he'd miss.

"Oh," he says, sounding stilted.

"Yes, oh," Arthur concurs. They stay like that, with Merlin on his knees before a hard Arthur, for far too long, before Arthur practically has to bark at him to get him to leave. "Merlin, would you please leave!"

It isn't even remotely a question, and it seems that Merlin knows it. Without another word spared, he's up and out before Arthur can say or do anything silly, and the prince is dressing himself for the day instead. He tosses the idea of touching himself around his head, deciding against it for fear that Merlin outside might hear and believe he's in some sort of distress, barging in in his insolent ways. Then, he reasons, he can hardly go about the city like this, so he's going to have to.

Whether Merlin's stood directly outside or not, he can't say for sure. He only knows the man isn't in the room with him, which is good enough reason to start. Laying back on his bed, he buries his head deep into the pillows and begins to stroke himself, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the door. It takes very little for him to become worked up, and before he knows it he's squeezing his eyes shut and imagining all sorts of foul images.

He imagines Merlin coming in, rushing into the room only to stop right before him, eyes trained on Arthur's vulnerable form. He'd stand there for a moment, drinking in the sight as a dying man might do water, and then, from nowhere, he'd grasp wildly at his tunic and begin ripping it to shreds, desperate to get onto Arthur, to feel his smooth, naked skin against his own.

Arthur's clutching at his sheets, imagining his own hand were Merlin's. It's not wishful thinking, though, because he doesn't _wish_ it belonged to his manservant, and it's only a coincidence that the man comes to his head. He's the only person he's seen all day, so it's perfectly natural for him to picture Merlin's lips claiming his own, pressing him down into the bed, his erection hot, weighty beside Arthur's own...

With that, he begins to climax. Ropes of white spurt out of his cock, further than he could ever have imagined possible, as though he's been worked up for years to get to that point. He finishes, then waits for his convulsions to stop, and then goes back to dressing himself.

He slips the pants on, glad he removed them before pleasuring himself. He almost thinks he's gotten away with it cleanly, only when he casts his eyes down to his shirt he sees a white stain on the otherwise pristine maroon article, and he swears. Just at that point, a head pokes in from the hallway, and there stands Merlin, watching him with some expression he can't pinpoint.

"Merlin," he says, shamefully, "You're going to have to clean my shirt."

**

Arthur denies breakfast, despite Merlin's constant insistence that he'll need it for when he's training later on. He merely rolls his eyes and refuses to bicker with the man, ignoring him until he takes the hint and falls into delightful silence. Possibly the worst part is that he can't even look at Merlin without thinking disgraceful things, the type of things that would make his father's stomach churn and likely cause his premature death. He feels dirty.

He dismisses Merlin from his duties, though the man seems to insist on haunting him anyway. He does go away for a short while, though, to run some errands for Gaius, leaving Arthur to his melancholy, eternally turned-on thoughts for a good hour or two. Soon enough, or perhaps far too soon, Merlin returns, and this time it's worse than ever.

He doesn't even knock when he enters Arthur's room, which makes the prince look at him. There, standing before him, shirtless and - dear Lord, is this man _glistening?_ \- is Merlin, looking red and sore. Not that Arthur wants to, more like because he doesn't have a choice, he can't look away, and the longer he looks he begins to see that Merlin has been impaled by hundreds of tiny little nettles, or something of the sort.

"Good God, Merlin," Arthur tries his best to sound irritated, though ultimately has to cross his legs to try to stop himself growing hard again, "What on earth happened to you?"

"Fell-" Merlin looks pained when Arthur's gaze finally trails up to his face, and his hands are making a motion like they want to scratch his body but know that'd be the ultimate wrong thing to do. He can't form more than one word at a time, because the only thing he says next is, "Stings."

Arthur shoots him a look that speaks volumes, volumes of 'you're a bloody idiot', but still finally gathers himself enough to be able to go over and inspect Merlin's body up close. It seems there's millions of tiny little spikes sticking out of the man's chest, stretching from his shoulders all the way down to his waist.

"What _exactly_ did you do?" Arthur asks as he ushers Merlin to his bed, taking a second to check there are no spikes in his back and, lo and behold, there are. "Got into a fight with a porcupine?"

"No, I-" Arthur knows it's bad when Merlin doesn't even roll his eyes at his joke, doesn't call him a clotpole of any of it. "Please, burns-"

"Alright, alright," Arthur settles the man into a seated position on his bed, and curses that it had to be today of all days that Merlin's torso got injured - the only day he thinks Merlin looks like a god, formed from marble and lain out on a table for him to look and not touch. Still, he tells himself this is his friend, and so he should help him.

Merlin seems grateful when Arthur begins plucking the needles out of his skin, one by one, starting first with his front. Even if he winces, squirms a little and makes a terrible whining sound each time Arthur does so, there's no blood pooling once the needles are removed, which Arthur takes to be just about the only good thing.

He's about half done with Merlin's front when the man feels brave enough to speak out. In a small voice, he says, ever so meticulous about timings, "You've got to go to training soon, don't forget."

"I'm not leaving you like this, Merlin," he tells the servant, "Have you seen the state you're in? You need all of these out of you, or you won't be able to sleep tonight."

"I'll- _ah_," he winces again as Arthur pulls a particularly deep needle out of him, "I'll get Gaius to do it."

"Get him to do what, waste his time? It's such a menial thing, Merlin; that man saves lives, don't bother him with this," Arthur states condescendingly, "Besides, the training isn't for me. It's for our newest knights, so the others can take care of it if I don't show. I'll explain it to them later, or make something more interesting up."

"Perhaps you should tell them you were on a quest."

It isn't Merlin's funniest quip, but Arthur laughs anyway. It's forced, of course, but he feels the man has suffered enough already, and shouldn't have to think he's unfunny as well as unintelligent. Arthur casts his eyes up from Merlin's body for what should only be a brief exchange of glances, but that turns into something much more prolonged.

When he looks up, he finds Merlin already staring at him. His lips are curved upwards just a little at the edges, obviously bemused, but they fall after ten or so seconds of Arthur staring at him, clearly sensing the same shift in tone as Arthur does. Merlin's eyes flit to his lips and just then Arthur begins to tip forward only slightly, but he soon stops himself, clears his throat, and gets back to work.

Merlin isn't especially chatty as he finishes up his chest, which is just fine for Arthur. It's only when Arthur tells him to turn over, to lie on his front with his face on one of Arthur's pillows, that he begins to chat again, and soon Arthur can't get him to shut up.

It's awkward at first, finding where to plonk himself. He thinks he could kneel beside Merlin, though that's hardly ideal. He could hardly see the needles from there, anyway, which is exactly why he's gotten himself into this position anyway. Eventually he comes to the conclusion that he's going to have to straddle the backs of Merlin's legs, as this will give him the optimum position to look for the dreaded needles, even if it means he has to be extra careful how he moves.

Merlin has no objections as Arthur throws one of his legs over his side, and he just keeps hammering on about whatever it is that he's been talking about for the past five minutes. Arthur isn't sure if he's just a nervous talker or what, but it seems as soon as he starts removing the needles from the man's back, shifting and lifting his hips so that he can get a clearer view of Merlin's shoulders, that his speech speeds up.

"Slow down, Merlin, I can't understand a word you're saying," Arthur complains like he was listening in the first place. He doesn't think he's offered a single word to Merlin since he flipped him over, and perhaps even before that. "Lift your arms, would you? I need to check your sides."

Merlin immediately obeys, and his talking subsides. It's not immediate, not out of fear or anger, rather just that his conversation with himself comes to a natural end, and he lets it die gladly. Arthur would be grateful, only now he's got to run his hands down Merlin's sides and feel for any needles in complete silence, whilst also pretending to not notice how close his groin is to Merlin's bottom.

When no pained sounds erupt from Merlin's mouth, he assumes there's no needles in his sides. Still, to be thorough, he figures he should check again, just in case he missed some the first time. Just because he's cleared Merlin's chest and back doesn't mean there aren't sneaky ones hiding on Merlin's sides or, say, on his lower back, where his pants are hanging just below his hips...

He stops himself before he goes too far, before he regrets making the decision to do such an inane thing. He pats Merlin on the back (well, more like slaps him, with the force he uses), then reluctantly shuffles back, coming off of Merlin's legs so that the man can sit up.

"Alright, you're done."

It takes a moment but Merlin finally sits up, groaning and still red. He looks sore, but at least he doesn't have any needles stuck in his chest anymore, right? To Arthur, that's all that counts.

"Ow," Merlin says obnoxiously, clearly being dramatic what with how slowly he comes to sit. Arthur rolls his eyes but says nothing, grimacing just a little when Merlin cracks his back and rolls his shoulders, though he tries to avert his eyes at the latter through fear of... well, the obvious outcome by now. Merlin casts his eyes over to him, and he can't quite look away.

It's happening again, he can feel it. He's tipping forward, quicker this time, though he can feel he's still restraining himself. He pauses before he gets too close, prepares himself to stand up and move away, fearing the worst if he tries anything, but he's stopped by Merlin speaking.

"You look like you want to kiss me," he states, voice turned to a whisper, as though teasing Arthur, coaxing him in with his mocking.

Before he can think, before his brain and tongue can communicate and agree on what is and what is most definitely _not_ appropriate to say, he admits it, saying, "I do."

There's little time between the words leaving his lips and Merlin launching himself forward, capturing Arthur's lips beneath his own, turning his head and leaning even closer, trying to meld them together as it seems to the prince. Merlin's hands fumble about a little, first digging his fingers into the bed-sheets then deciding against it, coming to hold him up using Arthur's legs instead.

Arthur isn't interested. Well, correction, he's _very_ interested, but not in precisely where Merlin's hands decide to go. He's rather interested in Merlin as a whole, touching his body, letting his hands roam freely. They go all over the man's strong torso, and he grasps at Merlin's biceps to pull him in even closer. He begins to lay back, ready to hand himself over entirely to the stranger who has Merlin's face and personality, but a completely different body, but he's stopped.

Merlin suddenly stops kissing him. He pulls back, albeit only an inch or two, and looks at Arthur through his lashes, much like he had done earlier that day, only this time he can't seem to keep his eyes off of Arthur's lips. He licks his own pair instinctively, wetting them, and Arthur's anticipating another kiss, only then is when Merlin pipes up once more.

"I take it you like this look, then?" He asks, and this makes Arthur furrow his brows, confused. He chuckles breathily.

"Of course I do," Arthur brings a hand to rest on Merlin's pectoral muscle, which must have quadrupled in size since yesterday, "Although, I would like to know exactly what you did to make this happen."

"If I told you, you'd have to kill me," Merlin says ambiguously, still giving him that wanton look.

"Whatever that means," Arthur sighs, deciding he'll never quite understand this man, and that's okay. Maybe he'll never have to, because that's part of Merlin's charm.

He drags the man back in for another kiss, stealing a hundred thousand more before the night is over, and he looks forward to the morning, where he can take as many more as he likes. After all, he is the prince, and he always get what he wants, even if the surprising thing that he wants is his bratty manservant. Who's to say otherwise?

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! I'd love to know your thoughts about this piece. God I love these two lol, feel free to leave any suggestions/prompts for future fics too! always love writing about this pair of idiots in love.


End file.
